I.

Whilst Climbing Outside Edge, The Great Slab, Craig yr Ogof

addressed to a reader

 

Cwm Silyn's three llyns below

– smooth blues slight

 

ly rippled and spat

tered with the day

 

-star's sparks

 

my ropes pale

orange & blue

stripe down

 

wards across grey tuff

 

ropes as tugged

map-marks on

actual rockscape

 

simple linear legends rubbing

 

their passing over

the complex-crinkled

 

surface of a

solidified aeon

 

the day-star's force bounces

off the tuff my skin

 

seeps salt-wet as

 

     black flies like

     letters fallen

     from a bible twirl

 

           two ravens throw

           soft slow kron-n-n-n-nks from

          

           one

 

                to the o

 

           ther across

           the simmering cwm

 

I climb on up

the stone's star-heated

rippled hardness drag

 

ging my smooth map

-line rope-colours

 

pitch finished I

anchor to the crag

to bring

 

up my companion tied

in    to the lines' ends    out

of sight below

 

and beyond the crag-horizon I've

 

     just cli

        mbed o

          ver

 

my mouth gummy

with thick spit

I gaze

 

-guzzle at the sleek

sky-silent llyns reclined

in the level of

 

spirits

 

I almost

believe

 

I could reach

down and lift and tip

up

 

a big blue sheet to

pour

 

a deep bubble of water down

my throat and              g    guh    guh

 

glug a llyn dry

 

swallowing whole its

light & sil

very fish-glinters

 

           a sudden high sli

 

           ding speckle of dark

           -spark swallows lets

 

           loose gli

                   stening

 

           chips of song across

           the cwm's blue

 

           shivering sky-lid




 

 

 

 

II.

At Summit above Craig Pennant, 734 m

un-addressed

 

 

     pick

 

ing steps across light-grey clitter

lovely hollow

 

glug-clun

ks of

 

     stones rocked

 

     a geo

 

logical music folding

an animal's now

 

ness move

ments in

 

                 to

 

deep-timed

stone-gong

 

     sou

 

                         nd

 

 

 

 

 

 

III.

During Return Walk to Road-Head, Lower Slopes of Garnedd-goch

addressed to my climbing partner & a moor's gone gods

 

moorland wide-writhing under

sky buzzing white with

 

the spikes of the day-star

 

 windless air bend

s into warp

 ing walls

 

of greased rippling glare

 

distraught ice-bergs of over

-heated full-fleeced sheep bounce

through black-green reeds away

 

from us ab

     surd fire

 -faced spectres we

 

are heat's terror

 

and it's our

visions that play

 

on the mind of the June moor

 

bog-cotton puffs copy

gauzily the flock     are

little sheep stuck

on straws

 

and heat's fuzz-shine is

 

a tremor at     at

om magnified

to this

 

pressed

 

smudge of

 

lenticular space this

material of contorted

 

moor & spook-forms our

 

extra-real

faces pull all

 

this moor's molecular

vibrations    its forms

 

into our skulls a craze

 

 

of temperature-rise crystallises

behind our eyes

 

 

     suddenly I hear a gliggle now

     ribbon-glisten in a narrow channel

     the pebble-bottom pristine through

    

     limpid prophecy

 

     we kneel to this

     transparent angel reclining

     amongst the reeds

 

     we plunge our hands and pull

     up cupfuls and tip

 

     splashes upon us and

     laugh a relief-rapture as a clarity

     cold-&-smooth as a home

    

     coming until now un

    

     known re

     skins our faces with

 

           flow

 

           's lo

 

           ve